Darkest Before the Dawn
by KayDrew
Summary: What would happen if Merlin had a daughter? What if he made Arthur her godfather? What if he went missing for 20 years and in that time Morgana got the crown? Come explore this story. It's written by my friend Numb3rsfan and myself. Please read and review! Thanks.
1. Dreams and Sacrifice

Twenty years – that is how long Ceri had lived in Ealdor, although her birth city was Camelot. It was how long her mother had been dead and her birth father had been missing (presumed dead). She had been ill for twenty years. Born early, Ceri had weak lungs – she couldn't run or swim, she often got ill, and several times she had stopped breathing all together. And, for twenty years, Arthur Pendragon had been the only father she had known. He had taken Ceri in the night her father went missing. Ultimately, because of her druid background, his kind deed had angered Uther so greatly that Arthur had been stripped of his title and exiled.

Today was her birthday – she was twenty-one now and she had lived twenty-one years longer than anyone had ever anticipated. It was, in fact, to the moment of her birth. Ceri had been born at dusk. She had spent most of this birthday in bed, asleep and recovering from a bought of breathlessness. She had gone apple picking and in the middle of the little venture, her lungs just gave up. And, as she slept, she dreamed. And as she dreamed, she thrashed and screamed weakly.

It had been twenty long years for Arthur Pendragon, former Prince of Camelot. After he had been exiled he had gone to Ealdor as Hunith had suggested and there he had raised Ceri like she was his own daughter, though he had made sure that she knew who he real parents were; it was only fair. Raising a sickly child was no small chore. For the most part people in Ealdor left him alone with the child, though time and again Arthur would call on the help of Alice.

Slowly time had passed. Ceri did not die, instead she grew older and as she grew Arthur began to leave her with Alice, at first for only a day or two and then it got to be a little longer. For seventeen years he searched high and low for Ceri's true father, Merlin but he never found any news as to the young man's whereabouts or if he was even still alive. Finally on Ceri's eighteenth birthday Arthur had given up the search. It had been at least five years since he had heard anything from Camelot, and he had stopped writing himself when purchasing the necessary writing supplies became hard due to severe drought and lack of money.

Arthur was seated in his chair reading a book in the dim candlelight when he had heard Ceri scream. He and Ceri were living in Hunith's little hut, to which Arthur had made a few improvements, namely adding three new rooms so Ceri could have a bedroom of her own. Dropping the book, Arthur ran for the small bottle that was on the shelf. Taking it he poured it in to a pot of pre heated water before taking that in to Ceri's bedroom.

Sitting down on the side of the bed Arthur put out a hand and gently brushed it along the girl's face. "Sweetheart, it's okay..." he said loud enough to where she should wake up but not loud enough to scare her. The breathing treatment he had prepared was just in case she had an attack.

Ceri writhed in her bed. She fought her father's touch by turning her head left and right. "Leave him be," she muttered in her sleep. Her eyes were tightly closed and her forehead was puckered in apprehension. A slight moan escaped her parted lips. "Leave him be."

Ceri's eyes snap open. Her eyes dart wildly around until her gaze settles upon her father. The curly-haired young woman grabs her father's arm. "Oh, papa, it was so realistic. I was dreaming of the same man…the man I've dreamt of for months. But, I could see him so clearly this time."

With her chest heaving, she pushed herself into a sitting position. "He was hurt, papa," Ceri said as tears lined her brown eyes. "Scars covered his hands and face. Although, he slept curled upon his side, he looked like he was in discomfort. And oh…how skinny he was! Even though his clothes, I could see his ribs. It was horrible! The man wore chains about his wrists and arms."

Ceri shivered. She coughed once from all the talking. "And I think I saw his captor. It was blonde woman," she finished. "I wish we could find him."

Arthur wrapped strong arms around the young girl. He couldn't even guess the pain and hurt she was in; having those types of dreams all of the time. "I wish we knew who he was. Can you describe him for me sweetie?" He had asked Ceri to describe the man she saw before but she hadn't been able to tell him much but now that she said she had seen him clearly, Arthur hoped once again she could describe him in greater detail.

A tiny portion of his mind wondered if this person that she was seeing could be Merlin, but the logic center of his brain told him that it was an impossibility. Merlin was gone; dead more than likely, and the dreams that Ceri was constantly having were probably nothing more than dreams.

More than anything Arthur wished he could have found Merlin; at least then he would have known and would have been able to bring some peace to not only himself but to the boy's mother but obviously that had not happened. It was that constant 'unknown' factor that had Arthur depressed and miserable each year 'The Day' rolled around. He blamed himself for not listening and understanding where is manservant was coming from. It was his fault (more or less) that Merlin was gone and even though he didn't know it for sure, Arthur blamed himself for killing his one and only best friend.

Ceri leaned her head against her father's shoulder and pressed herself tightly into his embrace. When she closed her eyes, images of the man flickered through her mind. His scars, from his poorly healed wounds, were the focus on her thoughts. Nasty and red, they looked painful. The young woman couldn't take it anymore and her eyelids lift themselves upwards so that her dark brown eyes were open.

She pushed herself away from her father. Scooting along the bed, she swung her legs over the bed and let them dangle. Ceri was a small girl, shorter than most her age, so her toes didn't touch the ground. It was as if an eleven or twelve year old girl was sitting next to Arthur instead of a twenty-one year old woman.

"He was so skinny and long. Even though he was curled up on his side, I knew he was tall – taller then you," she began. "His hair was short and dark…perhaps black or brown. It was similar to my color."

She paused and closed her eyes again. "And his nose, it was thin, but prominent. A little beaky," Ceri mused. "But, it fit his face and went with his ears."

Ceri gasped as she opened her eyes again. "There was magic used. The blonde-woman I saw, she used magic on him. There was a soft glow that enveloped him as if she were binding him to the spot. The light shined through his ears…his very big ears."

Ceri pressed her fingers to her eyes as if to rid her mind of the dream. "I don't know who he is. I wish I did. I've never seen him before. But, he's in trouble I know it," she whispered.

Arthur gingerly pressed a hand to Ceri's shoulder in an attempt to comfort her when the young lady pressed her fingers to her eyes. He didn't say it because he didn't want to get her hopes up but what she had described for him fit Merlin's description to a 'T'...except for the injuries that he was sure the man had sustained throughout the years.

"You have a strong attachment to this man, don't you?" Arthur asked. It really wasn't a question, more a statement of fact. Ceri had dreams all throughout her life and it seemed this man was all she ever dreamed about.

Ceri shrugged and then nodded after a moment. "I suppose so. I do worry about him. I don't like that he's being hurt. I don't like he's in danger," she whispered. "I feel sorry for this man. He was so sad, papa. Even in his unconscious stat, he was devoid of hope. It just felt like a shell. There was no life or will to live, just resignation. Even though I was not there, I could sense it radiating off of him."

He wanted to try and find this person, but there were caves everywhere. It would take a very long time to search them all. "Ceri, do you think he's close or far?" The young man asked. He was going to trust the girl's judgment because if she was sensing Merlin then it was a safe bet that she could at least be able to pinpoint her father's general location.

"I don't know, papa. It was hard to tell if the place was near or not. I couldn't even describe the caves. It was very dark. I could kind of tell there were quite a few tunnels. I suppose he is or I wouldn't dream of him," she whispered.

Yawning, Ceri pulled her legs up onto the bed. Crawling under the blankets, she closed her eyes. "Night papa," she whispered, falling asleep.

"Good night kiddo." Arthur murmured. He stayed with Ceri until she fell asleep before he rose up and returned to the main part of the house. The hope that he had felt while talking with his goddaughter was slowly fading as the house once again was quiet. He wanted to believe that his friend was still alive and perhaps he was, but so what? Even Merlin was alive he wouldn't be the same. He might not even recognize them.

Moving over to the candles, Arthur blew on the flames watching them go out with a grim satisfaction. He was tired; more than he realized. Perhaps the young lady was on to something; the subtle suggestion of sleep creeping over Arthur's mind. Even in the dark he made his way in to his own bedroom, collapsing on to the bed with an exhausted sigh. Moments later he was sleeping contentedly.


	2. Revelations

Lancelot had been gone for about a week and was happy to be returning back to his _home _in Ealdor. There, he had a home, a job milling wheat, a wife, and two children that he was proud to call his own. It was much different from his world as a knight or traveler and it was far less glamorous, but he loved it.

In his eagerness to return from Mercia, he had started out long before dawn. The sun hadn't even tinged the sky its usual dusky peach color, but Lancelot he had a small lantern; it had given him enough light to start home.

The ride out of Mercia had been uneventful. It was a quiet and peaceful ride with the only sounds being the occasional bird tweeting, a last cricket chirping, the clip clop of his horse's hooves along with the rumbling of the wheels of the cart, and the jangle of his candle lantern. Sometimes he added his whistling to the orchestra as well, which was what he was doing as he rode towards his home and back to his Gwen.

Spying something off the side of the road, his whistle died on his lips. He pulled the reins. His horse and cart stopped and he hopped down from the driver's seat. He wandered through the small patch of white flowers common to this land and hid behind a massive tree. Coming out of a cave was a cloaked being. Lancelot frowned. It was odd. Never before had he seen anyone around this area of the woods. When the person was gone, he wandered towards the cave.

Entering, he looked around, but couldn't see much. Lancelot cursed himself for forgetting the lantern. Stumbling along, he nearly fell over a prone figure. He was unmoving. Worried, Lancelot stooped, but couldn't tell anything about the person in front of him. Shrugging, he carried him out of the cave and to his cart. Laying the being in the back, Lancelot studied the man who appeared to be in a horrible state.

Whoever it was, he was scrawny. His dirty and stained clothes hung off of him like rags (in fact they were more like rags then clothes), and his hair, although short was cut prisoner style (all jaggedly uneven).

Carefully, Lancelot tilted the man's head towards him. Although gaunt, the features (chin, nose, ears, and cheekbones) were unmistakable. "Oh God," he prayed. The words were not in vane – Lancelot would never say such a thing. His words were a sincere prayer to protect the man who seemed to be on the verge of death. When Lancelot checked his breathing, it was weak, as was his pulse. How long had it been since he'd drank or ate anything?

Hurrying around the cart, the man hopped into the driver's seat, he noticed the shackles about the man's wrists and ankles. Anger and sadness flared in his heart. "What has happened to you old friend," whispered Lancelot as he got into his seat and drove as fast as he could back to Ealdor.

By the time he returned to the village a whole day had passed without Lancelot noticing the sunrise, midday sun, and sunset. His horse was sweating and breathing heavily when he reached Arthur's house. Hopping down, he glanced at the person, who still hadn't woken or moved, before going to the door. Taking a shaky breath, Lancelot raced to the door and banged on it with his palm. "ARTHUR," he screamed.

The new day had come and gone without any more incidents. Ceri had slept the rest of the night away. In the morning she and Arthur had worked out in the fields collecting the yearly harvest that would see them through the winter. The former Prince had really learned how to farm; he had to do so in order to make a living for himself and his god daughter. Now he was one of the best in the village, apart from one or two others that is.

Once they were done collecting the wheat and vegetables from the ground, Arthur and Ceri had gone back inside the house. It was already sunset anyway and it was time for the daily breathing treatment.

Arthur had just handed Ceri the steaming cup filled with medicine and hot water when there was a loud bang on the front door.

"_ARTHUR!"_

"Papa?"

Looking to the young lady it was clear to see that she was nervous, not knowing who was at the door or what they wanted.

"It's okay kiddo. Take your breathing treatment. I'll handle who ever's at the door." Arthur assured with a smile.

He walked out of Ceri's bedroom, shutting the door behind him before he crossed over to the front door and opened it. What greeted his eyes was a shock. A man whom he didn't recognize and yet who looked strangely familiar was standing there with a worried look on his face.

Arthur's face was blank for a moment until a certain name jumped in to his mind. "Lancelot?" he asked. He was confused because he personally hadn't seen Lancelot since Uther had banished him from the castle.

Apparently Lancelot was confused by his friend's reaction because he said, "Of course it's me. Who else would it be? Surely you knew I live in Ealdor!"

Arthur's mouth was slightly open and his eyes had that confused look to them as he slowly shook his head no.

"Whatever. We can discuss that later, right now there's something I have to show you." Lancelot replied, grabbing his friend's arm and literally dragging him out of the house.

Not really having a choice in the matter, Arthur allowed himself to be dragged out of the house and over to the wooden cart. "What is it?" he asked, not entirely sure what his friend was wanting him to see. In answer, Lancelot climbed in the back and gently picked up something, holding it up so Arthur could get a good look at it.

At first all the man could see was a body all beat up and scarred as if he had had a life filled with unspeakable torture. Then he saw it. The hair color, the ears, the pale skin, the readily defined cheekbones…Arthur felt his breath hitch in his throat; felt himself pale as well before he fell down, his knees suddenly too weak to hold him up. "It can't be…" he muttered under his breath.

"Papa? Are you okay?"

From the open doorway stood Ceri She wore a worried look upon on her face. She too didn't know Lancelot but she had seen Arthur fall to the ground as if the person in Lancelot's arms had scared him half to death. Ceri's voice brought Arthur out of his confusion. Raising a hand in assurance he said, "I'm fine sweetie, just stay inside."

Ceri frowned at her father. He wasn't all right. He looked like he had seen a ghost. Sighing, she shook her head. The young woman did not protest though. Instead, she turned from the doorway and went back to her room to finish off her steam treatments.

Rising to his feet once more Arthur gestured for his friend to bring Merlin inside. More than anything he had wanted to take his old friend from the arms of the Knight, but he couldn't bring himself to do it which was why he allowed Lancelot to hang onto the warlock as they made their way inside.

Lancelot nodded. He felt numb and he was shaking. Carrying the middle-aged man inside, he wandered through the house until he found Arthur's bedroom. There was no place to lay Merlin the main living quarters. Placing him on the bed, the ex-Knight stared at the unsightly man.

Merlin didn't stir, didn't even flinch, as Lancelot carried him into the house. That worried the man. Even being laid down, he never moved his head or blinked or even twitched a finger.

It was actually as if a cadaver lay upon the small bed instead of a life-filled being. From just looking upon him he did appear dead. No meat or muscle was under his skin, which was pulled taught over every bone in his lanky body so that one could count the ribs and vertebra. Dark gray circles shadowed his sunken eyes and stood out on his sallow, papery skin. And due his lack of activity, dark living conditions, and cramped quarters where he'd been chained, his leg bones had become weak, thin and deformed and his arms had become scrawnier and weak. It was as if a skeleton laid upon the bed. If his chest hadn't been raising and lowering with thin breathes and his pulse wasn't fluttering weakly away within his veins, he would've surely been buried.

"I was returning from Mercia. I had delivered flour there," he explained. "I saw someone come out of the caves. I don't know who it was, but I knew it was odd. Entering, I nearly fell over him."

Lancelot rubbed his face with his fingertips ad then he looked over at the unconscious form. "This was how I found him, shackles and all. Do you think he's been there for twenty years," Lancelot asked. "I think we need to get those shackles off. They're rubbing sores on his ankles and wrists."

The man nodded to both areas of the body. He could see blood seeping out from under the metal. "Percival can do it, I suppose. He is the blacksmith after all," the ex-knight said. "We were all banished from Camelot about five years after you were, except Leon. Percival and myself came to Ealdor. Gwaine took to his wandering ways as did Elyan and Tristan. They stop by my home from time to time. They've got plans of some sort. Gwaine told me the other day he's about ready to tell me, but not yet. I've been living in the far northern area of Ealdor."

He sighed and looked at Merlin. "Do you think he'll make it?"

Reaching out a trembling hand Arthur rested it on Merlin's dirty brow. There was no fever; quite the opposite in fact. Merlin's skin was ice cold. He barely listened as Lancelot told him about Percival and the others. Funny, he didn't even know about Percival being the village blacksmith!

It really wasn't too surprising though. Arthur almost never ventured to the village square which was where the blacksmith's shop was located. He mostly stayed to himself; farming his fields and making trips to the spring were about all of the adventuring he had done for the past few years; after he had given up on looking for Merlin.

The only person he had had any continual contact with was Alice who would bring him more medicine for Ceri whenever he would run out. They would talk of course, but Alice would rarely tell him news of anything besides what was happening in the village.

"Yes…" Arthur murmured, "Get Percival. If he can rip the arms off of a bear I'm sure he can make short work of the shackles and chain." It was a bad joke, lacking the charm that used to be there.

Years ago Arthur would never be one to show too much emotion. Sure he knew how to laugh and such but when it came to serious things he would always play it off as no big deal. Now, however he was the exact opposite. Looking up at Lancelot he knew it would be easy for the other man to see his eyes watering; tears threatening to fall.

Lancelot did indeed notice the look on his friend's face but thankfully he didn't say anything about it. Arthur was torn up enough. He didn't need to be explaining himself right at that moment.

Lancelot could see the worry and fear in Arthur's eyes. Was there guilt? He wasn't sure. "Merlin needs blankets and hawthorn. It'll help with blood flow and make him warmer," Lancelot explained as he left.

Arthur didn't say anything. He only nodded his head twice to indicate he had heard and understood Lancelot's suggestion. Once the man left, Arthur stood up and went to the small chest that was on the other side of the room. He fished out two blankets that Alice had given him two years ago. One was an earth tone brown, the other was white. Both were very soft and clean, having never been used.

Unfolding the blankets, the former Prince gently draped them over Merlin's thin frame. He had half a mind to go start a fire in the fireplace and warm the blankets up a little, but he didn't do it. Instead he went to the kitchen; to the cupboard in the back and grabbed a small vial of hawthorn that Alice had made two years ago. The half-life of the medicine was four years so there was no doubt that it was still good.

Two years ago there had been a nasty winter storm which had left the trees covered in thick sheets of ice and the ground covered with snow and ice. Arthur had gone to collect some water for Ceri's breathing treatment only things had not gone according to plan. He had been walking underneath a tree branch when it broke due to the ice. The branch had smacked him on the head hard enough to not only knock him down but trap him underneath it as well.

The weather had been cold and was only getting colder. As it were he had stayed outside trapped under the tree branch for twelve hours straight before Alice had found him. She had gotten some help from one of the villagers and together they had removed the thick, heavy tree branch off of Arthur. By that time Arthur had been pale, lips blue as well. Dried blood had coated the left side of his face and it was all in his hair as well.

Alice had taken him back to his home and with the help of Ceri had nursed him back to health. Now the lone bottle of hawthorn was the only reminder of that day. Well…the bottle and the scar Arthur had on the top of his head from where the branch had struck him.

Smoothly Arthur administered the hawthorn. He had only just finished when Lancelot returned with Percival in tow.

About 10 or fifteen minutes later, Percival and Lancelot returned. "It's good to see you. It's been long," he said as he began to work on the shackles around his wrists and ankles.

"It's good to see you too Percival." Arthur said as he stepped aside and let the larger man have at the shackles.

"_I am sorry for not stopping by. Life has just slowly moved on, But, from time to time I saw you and Ceri. I thought of stopping, but I didn't know if I should or if you'd want to see me. I married Gwen, Arthur."_

Gwen. Arthur had never stopped thinking about her; never stopped loving her either, but with a sickly child he had had no more time for any romantic feelings for anyone. Now it was too late. Maybe it had always been too late. Arthur knew he should feel angry at Lancelot, but he didn't. Instead he felt that deep dark hole in his heart widen even further. Everything had been taken from him; his entire future ruined and he guessed it was partly his own fault. He had been charged to raise a young child that wasn't even his and he had done so to the best of his ability, and what did he have to show for it? A house that could barely keep out the cold in the winter and that could barely let in the wind in the spring and summer; a field with crops that needed tending to daily; a young lady who needed daily medical assistance to keep on living…

It was really taxing on him, more than he ever let on but he kept pushing forward because he knew that Ceri needed him. He couldn't just get up, walk off and leave her.

"Gwen," Arthur paused and swallowed with a suddenly dry throat, "She deserves to be happy. I am glad that you were able to give that to her."

He clammed up when Percival finished his work and left. Arthur didn't even say goodbye to the ex-Knight.

Lancelot nodded. "She is…happy I mean," the man whispered. "I take good care of her."

Percival winced when he saw the size of Merlin's wrist as well as the wounds inflicted on them It was horrible. "Um, no charge," he muttered absently. "I had best go. Let me know how he is." Nodding to Lancelot and Arthur, he left.

Lancelot sighed. "I better go check on Gwen and our kids. I've been away for a week. I'm sure she'd understand, but I ought to. Let me know if you need anything," he said and then left Arthur alone with Merlin.

Moments later Lancelot excused himself saying something about having to go home and check on Gwen and the kids. Arthur really wasn't paying that much attention, but then Lancelot was gone leaving him alone with Merlin.

Slowly Arthur moved back over to the bed, sitting down on the very edge of it. He reached out and touched Merlin's forehead once more before he bowed his head letting all of the emotions he was feeling come out.

Tears of pain, sadness and regret were rolling down both cheeks and Arthur didn't do a thing to stop them.

"M' sorry….so sorry…" he murmured over and over, his words becoming increasingly difficult to understand as he continued to cry.

Hearing something, Merlin began to stir. His finger was the first to twitch. A pain-filled expression furrowed his brow. Then, his eyelids slowly lifted and he could see. Everything was blurry, as if waking from a deep sleep. In fact, he was. The spell he'd been kept under

was wearing off. Now he was feeling weak and drained. "Where am I," asked the warlock in a raspy voice.

His eyes were clearing and now, he could see the room well. It had been his room in Ealdor "Why am I in my mother's home? And where is she? Where's my daughter? My baby…Please tell me she didn't die," he asked, when he spotted Arthur.

For a moment there was relief at seeing someone and then there was panic in his eyes. The person looked familiar, but he couldn't place it. The warlock tried to shrink away from Arthur, but he couldn't. His body was so weak and scarred; it pained him to move. "Don't hurt me," he said in a wary voice.

That voice! Slowly Arthur lifted his tear stained face and locked eyes with Merlin. The two men held each other's gaze for the briefest of moments; Merlin's eyes filled with pain, weakness and confusion and Arthur's eyes filled with pain, regret and something else he couldn't describe.

Suddenly Arthur jerked his hand back from Merlin's forehead as if the warlock's skin was actually burning his hand. Of course it wasn't, but the shock that Merlin was now awake had just hit him. Arthur literally fell off the edge of the bed and on to the floor, his breathing erratic as he actually scrambled to get away from the other man.

There was a tap on the closed bedroom door before it opened. "Papa are you…?" Ceri didn't finish her sentence because what she saw confused her greatly. She saw Arthur on the floor cowering away from the injured man on the bed. She had never seen him act in that fashion before; he had always been so brave but to see him acting like a scared child really left her speechless.

Then her young eyes trailed to the man in the bed. "You…" she whispered, stepping in to the room as if on autopilot. "You are the man from my dreams! Papa…this is who I kept seeing!"

"Ceri…!" Arthur said in between quick breaths of air. He knew he had to tell her exactly who the stranger was. How she would react to it though remained to be seen. "Ceri, the man on the bed…he's your father, your real father…and his name is Merlin."

The dark-haired girl went over to her father and offered her his hand. Her brow was furrowed and tears shined in her eyes, but she didn't let them fall. "Nonsense, you're my father, papa," she whispered looking warily over at the man, who had fallen asleep. "You always will be."


	3. Truh Hurts

The next time Merlin woke, (which was only a little later), he found himself in the same room. He lifted his arms, or tried too, but stopped. "Ow," he whispered, brow furrowing. Merlin wanted to look at his wrists. He knew they were injured. He could feel the blood seeping from them.

Every part of him hurt. His head ached. His legs and their nonexistence muscles burned. His chest throbbed. His throat was dry. Even his toes, fingers, and face hurt. He was aware he was covered in grime and blood and scars. Everything was a misery.

Wearily, he looked about. He spied the same man, but the room was too dim to see anything. It was scary to be in the dark. He'd been there for so long – Merlin didn't like it.

He focused on the person beside him. A frown creased his brow. "Arthur," he asked, in a confused voice. Why am I in my mother's home? And where is she? Where's my daughter? My baby…Please tell me she didn't die. I had to hide her. Didn't want her taken and in prison."

His eyes drifted upwards. He saw no bangs or any sort of hair. His head actually felt itchy. Merlin's eyes went downward and he spied his ragged clothes. Merlin was a mess and he was ashamed his looks. The warlock felt like they represented his weakness and inability to fend for himself. "Sorry," he sobbed several times. He wanted to apologize for how he looked, for being gone for so long, and for anything else Arthur could think of.

It had only been two hours since the time Merlin had woken up the first time; two hours since Arthur had told Ceri that the warlock was her true father. After Merlin had passed out again Arthur had taken the young lady back to her room and tucked her in bed as if she were still a little girl. It was then that he told her everything that had happened, leaving nothing out. He told her of banishing Merlin, Ygraine resending the order, Merlin disappearing and then finding her in the forest, Uther finding out and then Arthur's own subsequent banishment. He didn't ask her forgiveness because he didn't know how to. He didn't even know what to say other than what he had already said to her, so he had risen up and left the girl's bedroom to return to Merlin's side, but not before getting a bowl of warm water, several cloths and some bandages.

While he was no doctor he had treated his fair share of injures over the past twenty years so he knew what to do. He had just placed the bowl down when Merlin began to stir. Arthur heard his name grace the warlock's dry lips; heard him ask about Ceri and question why he was in his mother's house.

Wordlessly Arthur dipped a clean cloth in to the water, wrung it out a little and then proceeded to gently wash the grime from Merlin's face. His touch was gentle, not wishing to hurt the younger man any further.

Even though Arthur's touch was supposedly gentle, it hurt Merlin's scarred and tender skin. He flinched with every touch. The wounds from falling haplessly on the briars had healed, but hadn't healed properly, so there were lines of hard scar tissue crisscrossing under his cheeks and chin.

"Merlin," Arthur finally began, "You have nothing to be sorry about. I am the one that is sorry. I am the one that stole everything from you; everything you ever held dear. I didn't see…I didn't understand…but now I do." He finished wiping off his friend's face, gently toweling it dry with another cloth before moving on to Merlin's chest, giving it the same treatment.

"Not so loud," he whispered as he rolled over a little. His back hurt from being shot with an arrow all those years ago. It had never been treated and eventually the wound had healed, but not without becoming infected and hardening the skin around it. "Voice so loud. Sh." Merlin hadn't heard anyone speak in twenty years, thus the words were so loud.

He nodded a little, feeling ashamed for having to be cared for like a newborn babe. "Not you, fate's or destiny's fault," Merlin replied. "Don't blame you. You did what you had to do. It's all right." His voice shook as he spoke; betraying his weakness.

"My fault. Shouldn't have lied and hid stuff. Then, couldn't even take care of myself out there," he said. Merlin jerked his head to the window to let Arthur know that he was talking about the outside world. "Should've been able to." A tear fell down his gaunt face and then another until his face was slicked with tears.

"You have to realize that it's been twenty years. A lot has happened. After you left the castle and disappeared I found Ceri in the woods. She was in terrible condition, but I took her to Gaius. Uther found out; went crazy, saying that Camelot was now open to a Druid attack because of who Ceri's mother was. He disowned me and banished me from the city. Hunith told me I could stay here, so I took your daughter, brought her here and raised her to the best of my ability. Ceri is still alive Merlin. I don't know how, but she is. She's a little miracle. She's still sickly; needs breathing treatments every day but she's a survivor." Arthur said.

"Twenty years? Long time," he said. As Arthur told him everything, a glazed look came into his eyes. He found it hard to comprehend what Arthur had just told me. "Too much. Slow down. None of it registered. Been asleep for that time. Really foggy…"

One part that did register was that Ceri was all right – sick, but all right. "Good," he whispered. "She's a fighter, like her mum was and like me, I guess. I don't know how I lived. Not sure if I've even eaten in twenty years."

He finished cleaning Merlin's chest and then pulled the blankets up to keep him warm before moving on to the warlock's arms. "I looked for you. Eighteen long years I looked for you. Every day I hoped I would find you so I could tell you how sorry I am for what I did to you, but I could never find you. It was like you had never even existed…except in my memory."

Merlin was glad for the blankets. He had gotten cold from the cleansing, even though he still had on his ragged clothes. How was Arthur washing him with his clothes on? Merlin didn't ask him, even though he did wonder about it.

"Whoever took me didn't want me found," he muttered. "I was shot down and carried off some place. I never saw where I was kept or who had me. I was kept asleep that long, too. Don't think I was supposed to ever escape."

He shrugged. "Not your fault. Nothing to apologize for," Merlin whispered as he looked at his arms. They looked like sticks with leather draped over them. The bleeding wounds around his wrists were stomach churning and it made him feel even more ashamed of how he looked.

Arthur said nothing more for the moment, having a feeling that his friend was pretty ashamed and or embarrassed about how he looked. Arthur closed his eyes for a moment, still seeing all of the scarring on his friend's chest. Of course Merlin had still been in the rags but, there was more skin than what had used to be clothing. The rags were more like strips of dirty cloth hanging haphazardly over bony flesh. It made Arthur sick to even think about it.

Opening his eyes he continued with his ministrations to Merlin's arms. They looked bad; so thin and white with no muscle at all and his skin it wasn't even like skin anymore it felt harder, like wood. "I should go get Alice…she…she can treat your wounds better than I can." Arthur mumbled. Really he was looking for any excuse to leave the room. He could feel his hands shaking so he stopped washing the warlock, the rag slipping from his hands to land in the half empty bowl of cooling water.

Realistically, Arthur didn't know why he was shaking the way he was. He was happy to see Merlin; to know that his friend was still alive, but that's as far as it went. Merlin had said what happened wasn't his fault. The question was did Arthur believe him? He had so many conflicting emotions running through him that he didn't know what to do. He wanted to laugh and smile, he wanted to curl up and cry, he wanted to yell and hit something…all of those feelings were there just waiting to pop out.

"All right," muttered Merlin. He turned his face away from Arthur and closed his eyes. However he didn't fall asleep. The warlock just lay there, letting his tears fall.


	4. Replies

Since there were so many great reviews, I thought it would be neat to reply to them!

**Original message LightningBolt21 9/19/12 . chapter 3 **

**Wow, three chapters in one day, and might i add amazing chapters. This is a really good start, so I take it Morgana is Ceri's mother?**

Hallaromen: We just couldn't stop! The first chapter was written over the last week or 2. I'm glad you like them Thanks! No, Morgana isn't her mother – Freya was.

Numb3rsfan: 3 chapters? It was really 3 chapters? LoL as Hallaromen said we just couldn't stop!

**Original message: LightningBolt21 **

**Okay, things about to get interesting.**

Can't wait to see how Merlin reacts to seeing Ceri and finding out what has happened to him for the past twenty years.

Hallaromen: I'm glad you think they are! I know I think they are. Even though they are in the same house, that reunion might not be for a chapter or two, but it will come. Right now, there's a lot of Merlin and Arthur things to work through:

Numb3rsfan: Don't worry there will be some father daughter time but not for a little bit; maybe another chapter or two but it will happen!

**Originial Message: angleblackdumbledore 9/18/12 . chapter 2**

**this is verry verry interisting!**

Hallaromen: Thanks! I'm glad you like it.

Numb3rsfan: Thanks so much! Glad you are enjoying it!

**Original Message: ****angleblackdumbledore****9/18/12 . chapter 1**

**This is good can't wait to read more**

Hallaromen: You will have much to read. :D

Numb3rsfan: We are just getting started! Thanks for reading!

**Origianl message: SpangleyPony 9/18/12 . chapter 1**

**Nice start. :-D**

Hallaromen: Thank you. :)

Numb3rsfan: Thank you and thanks for reading!

**Original Message: Guest 9/18/12 . chapter 1 **

**I have one word: AMAZING!**

This is really good, can't wait to see if Ceri finds Merlin and together they re-take Camelot.

Waiting for an update.

Hallaromen: I'm glad you think the first chapter was amazing! We have 2 more chapters up so you'll see that unfold. :D You'll be surprised with what happens.

Numb3rsfan: Well thank you! Hallaromen and I have many things planned for this story. Ceri and Merlin re-taking Camelot? Well…you will just have to keep reading to find out!


	5. To Eat or Not

Alice barged in with her bag and a pot of something. She was sweaty and red faced – it looked like she'd done a lot of work. "Lancelot told me," she whispered, putting the pot of broth near the fire and then the woman went over to the bed. I would've been here sooner, but there was a woman having twins. I was needed."

She moved the blankets away from the warlock and examined the wasted frame. Grabbing a nightgown from the shelf, she undressed the warlock. She finished cleaning him and then put him in the shirt "Shh, it's all right," the physician cooed as she cleaned and wrapped the wounds around his wrists and ankles. Dropping some medicine under his tongue, she went over to Arthur.

"I am sure you guessed this, but Merlin is not well. It does not appear he has been fed much of anything. I don't know what has kept him alive. I don't know if Merlin could tell us that. I am sure he got something but just enough to keep his body functioning," she explained.

The woman looked over at Merlin who had fallen asleep. "The only real wounds he has are the ones around his wrists and ankles. They will heal. I am not too worried about them. He has many scars, but they are very old. They weren't tended to and so they turned hard. It's his size. He is much too thin. He's very malnourished. I've never seen anyone as scrawny as he and live," Alice continued.

"He needs to gain weight, but he probably can't consume enough to do so. His stomach probably has shrunk," she said. "That complicates things. If things don't go well, Merlin could die in less than two weeks. There is only so much a body can withstand and there is only so long a person can go without eating. I assume magic was involved with keeping him alive. That spell is not affecting Merlin any longer."

Alice sighed. "He probably will be in pain – the scars were very tender. The hunger will gnaw at him. I would suggest giving him some Laudanum. It's opium mixed with a bit of alcohol. Now that he is free, he will be able to move and the muscle regrowth will be hard. It will make things easier on him and you," she said. "Arthur, do you want me to keep Ceri? I do not think it would be wise for him to see her so soon after regaining his freedom. He remembers how things were and seeing how they are might be hard on him. If he gets stronger, it will be easier. I would also suggest not letting him have visitors until he has recuperated some. Merlin is uncomfortable with how he looks. He's ashamed. He didn't say anything, but I could tell," the physician advised. "If he wants to know what has happened, tell him, but only in little chunks. His mind has been shut down for twenty years, but don't rush him. He has had no one to talk to and nothing to see or hear."

He had watched Alice work in silence; cleaning and dressing the warlock and then wrapping the wounds on his wrist and ankles. All the while his hands were either curled up in to fists or they were over his mouth; a nervous tick he had picked up several years ago.

"What can I do, Alice? Merlin was dead to me for the last three years. Now to find him alive and like this…I can't! I can't lose him again! Ceri can't lose him again! She…she never got the chance to get to know him. _He_ never got to see her take her first steps…say her first words. He never got to cuddle her and hold her close whenever a thunderstorm was sweeping through the village…he never got to explain to her about magic and how to use it! Ceri is so much like him. I see him in her every time she smiles. She deserves to get to know her real father and he deserves to get to know his own his daughter. He can't die Alice…he can't!" The last part had been said in desperation as if Arthur hoped Alice could whip out some magic potion that would turn back the clock; make Merlin the way he used to be.

He barely heard Alice say that Merlin needed to gain weight. Of course he needed to gain weight but how could he even stomach enough food to do so?

"Help him the best you can. Feed him in small amounts. Broths at first and then after he can stomach whole bowls of broth, try solid foods like eggs or bread," Alice remarked. "When it is time, if he regains his strength, help him walk and regain muscle."

She cleared her throat and studied Arthur. "Right now, it's about him...not you. Arthur, there is nothing we can do except help him, make him comfortable, and hope he will get better," the physician said. "And, in the end you might still lose him, even if we do everything right."

"Let me ask you, who raised that child? Who saw and heard all of those things? Who does Ceri see as her father? It's not Merlin. It may never be Merlin. You are her father, Arthur," she asked in a kindly voice.

"And if you see he is suffering and isn't improving, you will have to let him go. You don't want him to suffer. This is Merlin's time. He will either heal or he won't. Please, don't keep him here for yourself. It will only be more painful. I have ways to aid his passing, if that time comes."

She placed a hand on Arthur's shoulder. "I know this is hard and I know things look bleak. Merlin is strong and that helps," she said, handing him the bottle of laudanum. "I must go. Feed some broth to Merlin. You can give him some laudanum in 4 hours, if he needs it. I will check on him tomorrow." Alice then let herself out of the cottage.

Merlin woke again and found it easier to focus on things this time around. He spotted Arthur and kept his gaze on him. "Hi," he whispered.

Arthur had sat against the wall when Alice had talked to him. He said nothing as she left and he had continued to say nothing for the next hour as Merlin slept. Rising up he left the room and went in to the main part of the small house. Kneeling down by the fireplace he prepared a simple chicken broth; just water and chicken stock. When it was warm he dipped a little bit in to a wooden bowl, blowing on it until the steam disappeared. If Merlin actually managed to eat some he didn't want it to burn the man's mouth. Grabbing a wooden spoon Arthur then returned to the bedroom.

Not five minutes later he heard Merlin speak. "Hi."

"Hi yourself. How are you feeling? Do you think you can eat something?" Arthur asked. He moved to the bed, placing the bowl of food on the small dresser right beside the unlit candle. Reaching in to his pocket he withdrew a match and struck it against the dresser. It lit up and with it he lit the candle; warm light flooding the room moments later.

Merlin pressed his lips together as he thought about the question. "Drugged and groggy. I feel drugged. What did that woman give me?" he croaked. "Everything's out of focus in my head. I don't understand it. Cave dwelling for so long will do it I suppose."

He sighed and shifted. "Ow," Merlin whispered. His body ached and the lack of muscle made moving all but possible. A little bit of annoyance flickered over his face, but it soon passed.

"I'll try. Don't expect much though. Eating is almost a foreign concept to me," Merlin admitted. "I'm not even sure I know how any more. Will you…will you help me?" His brow furrowed as he asked the last question. The warlock hated asking for help, but he knew he couldn't do it – at least not now.

He looked over at the candle. "I could've lit it," Merlin whispered. "Last I knew I had magic."

"I know you do but do you even still remember how to use it? If what Alice suspects is true, that you haven't eaten in twenty years then I have a feeling you haven't used your ability in the same amount of time." Arthur said.

He knew that the magic would never go away so it wasn't a question of his friend losing the ability in and of itself, what the older man didn't know was if Merlin remembered how to use his talents or not. Swallowing nervously he reached over and took hold of the bowl of broth for a moment before releasing it. The warlock had asked for his help and he was going to give it to him.

"Arthur, I might've been out of commission for 20 years, but I didn't lose my magic. I am magic. I am made of magic. I can do _things_ even without a spell. I think it and it happens. I wasn't taught magic. I came out doing it," Merlin said.

He looked down at the white blanket that was draped over him. With eyes flashing, it turned a deep purple. The color started in the middle and crept to the hem. Feeling exhausted, but pleased, the warlock looked over at Arthur. As his eyes changed back to blue, he smiled wearily at Arthur. "See," he said. "I just…I just don't want to be useless."

Gently Arthur propped Merlin's up a little higher on the pillows so he wouldn't choke on the broth. The last thing the former Prince of Camelot wanted was for Merlin to choke and die because of him.

Merlin grimaced as Arthur moved him. "Careful," he hissed. Merlin's back hurt horribly (laying on the floor of a cave for two decades was rough on a body).

"This may seem different but in the end it will help. Here is what I am going to do. I am going to put a small amount of the broth in your mouth, and then I am going to stroke the back of your throat. It helps to trigger the swallowing reflex. Don't worry though; I'm not going to make you eat the entire thing, just a few bites. Are you ready?"

Merlin listened to Arthur the best he could. He still felt drowsy from the medicine the physician had given him and his brain didn't seem to want to focus on many words at one time "All right," the warlock whispered after a minute or two. "Gaius used to do that when he had a patient who couldn't swallow or wouldn't."

He shrugged as he looked at the bowl of broth. "Sure, I guess," Merlin whispered. "Don't expect much though. I don't think I can hold it."

"As long as you try, that's all I want to see." Arthur said. Gingerly he took the spoon dipped it in the broth and then brought it to Merlin's mouth.

Merlin nodded as he watched the spoon. The warlock didn't know how it would go. He wasn't even sure if food would even go down, even though his spit didn't spill from his mouth. However, there was a difference between what he had to do with the spit and the broth. Swallowing sputum was involuntary. Eating was something he had to think about.

Tipping the spoon back he let the tiniest portion drip in to the warlock's mouth; directly on to his tongue. Putting the spoon back in the bowl, the blonde gently held Merlin's jaw closed as he began to stroke the man's throat.

_Swallow_, thought Merlin, _come on swallow. You can do this. You have to._

But, he couldn't. It wouldn't go down, no matter how hard he tried. The warlock worked so arduously at this task, that he strained his throat.

Finally, it went down. To let Arthur know, Merlin tried to smile. It probably looked like a grimace.

After a few tense moments Arthur was pleased to see the warlock smile, even though waves of pain seemed to ripple across his face. Releasing Merlin's jaw the blonde man asked, "Does it hurt to swallow?"

"Yeah," he admitted. His voice was soft and husky. "It didn't want to go down I strained my throat is all."

He sighed. "I can't think of a spot on me that that hurts or doesn't want to work. Arthur, I'm dying, aren't I? Am I dying," Merlin asked. "I…I heard you and Alice."

****That question put Arthur on the spot. He felt himself grow pale and his heart felt as if it had dropped in to his feet. Merlin had heard the conversation between Alice and himself; had heard what Alice had said. Arthur took a deep breath, not knowing what to say to the warlock. In a manner of speaking, yes he was dying but there was a slight possibility that he could pull through. That was what Arthur was hoping to see.

Merlin looked down at his lap. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I woke up and I couldn't help it. I was just laying here, unable to move or do anything, and I wasn't really tired…so I just listened," he stammered.

"Merlin..." Arthur began. He realized the younger man's name came out as a barely defined whisper, so he cleared his throat and tried again. "Merlin, what Alice said...it was just a worst case scenario. You...you aren't going to die." he said. Even though he said it with pained and scared conviction, the look in his eyes showed that he was truly afraid the warlock was going to die.

"Worst case, yes, but it is a possibility," Merlin pointed out. "It's a very big possibility and a probability. I know it and you know it. There's no helping it or avoiding it. I was kept prisoner for twenty years. I was kept asleep for that long. I can't move my arms. I can't move anything. Every spot hurts. I can't swallow. I don't look forward to when I relieve myself. Someone's…someone's going to have to clean me because I can't do it."

Merlin pressed his lips together. He felt the pressure that usually preceded tears and nothing came. "I can't even cry and I want to! Do you know how that feels?" the warlock asked.

"You may be this way right now but it won't last forever Merlin. You will get stronger, you will get better! You have to believe that!" Arthur replied. To him it almost sounded as if his friend was giving up and that he didn't want to get better, but he had to; if not for himself then for his daughter's sake!

"You don't know that. I don't know that," Merlin rasped out. "It's frustrating and tiring. I'm not twenty anymore. I can't just bounce back from things like I used to. I don't even know if I have the strength to fight. I'm sorry. You...you might have to fight this for me."

He hated admitting a possible defeat. He also hated asking for help. But, the warlock knew with this he had to. It was too much for him to bear, at least alone.

"Merlin, you can't cry not because your body doesn't have the strength but because you are dehydrated. Your body needs more fluids." The blond said. He paused for a moment before raising the spoon again. "Now, shall we try again?"

"Sure. I'll try," he whispered. Obediently, Merlin opened his mouth and then he waited.

Drip by drip Arthur fed Merlin the spoonful of broth. It took roughly ten minutes for the warlock to finish the single spoonful but at least it was a start. "You know I will help you in any way I can Merlin; Ceri will help too. We'll get you back on your feet. I'm sure you remember Lancelot and Percival? Well they are here in Ealdor and I'm sure they both would like to help as well." Arthur said.

With a jerk of his head, Merlin attempted to nod. It was spastic and awkward – hardly a move that could be called a nod. "I know," Merlin replied after the rest of the liquid had gone down his throat. "I just wish I didn't have to have the help. I don't want Ceri to have to take care of me. She needs to take care of herself."

"I do remember them," he whispered, frowning. The warlock wondered why they were in his homeland instead of Camelot being knights. But, he didn't ask. "I'm not sure I want their help. I'm not sure I want them to see me yet. I'm embarrassed…I guess it doesn't matter. I can't deny help when I'm so defenseless…."

Meanwhile in her bedroom Ceri was still wide awake. She was still in her bed, lying down on her right side, but she was still awake and listening to the conversation that was going on in the other room. She still couldn't believe what her papa was saying; that that pitiful looking man in that bed was her father. Sure Arthur had told her stories growing up, stories that she had neither thought to be true. Arthur was the only father she had ever known; even though it was obvious the two looked nothing alike.

Her jaw trembled with fright as a million questions ran through her mind. What was going to happen to her? Was that stranger going to take her away once he healed? Would her father stand by and let it happen if the stranger tried? Slowly she sat up in her bed, a look of worry and fear shining on her face even though her room was bathed in darkness. She had to get answers. Pushing herself out of the bed Ceri stood and wandered across the hall. "We need to talk, she whispered.


	6. Meetings

Merlin's eyes drifted over to his daughter as he heard her speak. With the light of the candle, he could see her features perfectly. While the woman was twenty or twenty-one, she looked like a child in her stature. Her face was oval and her dark eyes were wide. Waves of dark curls surrounded her head and doubled down her back. "You look just like your mother. By the gods, she was so beautiful," the warlock whispered.

Arthur visibly jumped when he heard Ceri speak. He had been so focused on his friend that he hadn't even heard the young lady enter the room until she had spoken. "Ceri please, now is not that time for..." he began but was suddenly interrupted by Merlin who whispered a true statement.

Merlin closed his eyes as Arthur spoke to her. He was using his 'loud voice', although the exiled Prince's tone was hardly screaming. It just sounded brassy to Merlin's sensitive ears.

"Ceri, please, we have all the time to talk. Maybe when it is lighter and we've had sleep…this would be a better time to talk," he suggested. It didn't go well with the young woman. In fact, it seemed she even was ignoring hi.

"Yes father it is time that we talk!" Ceri insisted. She wasn't going to take no for an answer; not this time! Arthur had kept so many things from her and she was sick of it.

"Ceri..."

"No father! Enough is enough! I am tired of this; sick and tired of your attitude in this whole affair. You seem to forget that we are a family! It's always been just us, no one else! We don't need anyone else!" Ceri proclaimed.

Merlin felt sick to his stomach as he heard Ceri speak. It made his heart ache. For a brief moment he regretted being here and thought that perhaps it would have been better to stay in the cave. However, he did not say this. "We're all trying to adjust," he whispered, almost to himself.

"That's not true Ceri. There are many things you need. For one you need Merlin and I get the feeling that he is going to need you too. You two are the same even if you can't accept that right now. Merlin didn't leave you by choice, he never would have! He loves you Ceri!" Arthur retorted.

Ceri shook her head, not believing that for an instant.

"Ceri, please believe your father…believe Arthur," Merlin began. "I loved you with all my heart. I loved your mother. She saved me when no one else could or knew how. I saved her, too."

Merlin sighed. "We met when I saved her from slave traders. She was in a cage, scared... I couldn't leave her," he explained. "Then, I had to run. Arthur sent me away because of my magic, but only to save me. While running, I got sick, well sicker...I had drank something that was poisoned to save Arthur. She took care of me for awhile until we heard Arthur approach and she ran."

"I ended up dying, but was brought back to life and having my magic stollen. It was given back, but I was damaged. What fixed me was your mother's kiss. We soon securely married and you were conceived. But, she fell and you came early and your mother was killed because of her curse," he said.

Shaking his head, he pressed his lips together. "And you were so small and so sick. I was terrified I'd lose you as well as Freya. I think if you had died, I would not have been able to cope. I took care of you night and day...never missing giving you a treatment. Gaius was amazed you lived," Merlin whispered. "I made you finger puppets and knitted you a blanket. When Arthur sent us away, I took them with us. I guess the bandits who shot and took me stole the bag I had them in. I don't know what happened. But, when I heard the people come, I did the only thing I could do to assure you lived. I hid you. I was going to come back for you, but someone put me under a sleeping spell all of this time."

When Merlin mentioned the bag, Arthur shot up as if he was shot. He had completely forgotten about that until the warlock had brought it up.

"I don't...I don't remember any of it." Ceri replied, shaking her head. It was obvious she was still upset; her eyes were tearing up slightly, but it was also clear that she wasn't going to leave any time soon.

"Some of that was before you were born...the stuff where I got sick. It's just part of the story," the warlock said, look at Arthur as he jerked. "But, the stuff when you were in my life, I didn't think you would remember any of it. You were a baby after all...a very ill and tiny baby. No one thought you would live, but I didn't give up on you. You were my Starling."

Merlin pressed his lips together as he sighed. "It was not easy. I nearly lost you several times. The last being the day Arthur found out about you. You didn't breathe for ten minutes. It was the worst moment of my life."

Standing up, Arthur sank to his knees and reached under the bed Merlin was lying in. He pulled out a hand built chest that he had found in the hut upon his arrival. Taking out a key from his pocket he unlocked the chest and opened the lid. Reaching in he pulled out a very old bag that was covered in dirt and dried mud.

"The bandits or whoever took you didn't get the bag. I found it a long time ago." Arthur replied, placing the bag on the bed so Ceri could see it.

Merlin looked at the familiar bag. He smiled a little. That thing had gone with him everywhere. "Then the book should be in there...my magic book I mean. It's what helped me control my magic," he whispered. ""As well as a small dragon figure."

Walking over to the bed, Ceri knelt down and opened up the bag, withdrawing a few old vials of medication, a dirty baby blanket, some hand made finger puppets and a what looked to be a small hand carved wooden necklace. From the look on her face it was clear that she had never seen the items in the bag before but it was also clear that she was also fascinated by the items.

Merlin looked at the items as she pulled them out. "The blanket was the only thing I ever knitted. I had to keep redoing it because I kept making knots," Merlin said. "The puppets I used to entertain you while you had your breathing treatments. Your favorite was the blonde woman. You used to suck on it, so it's a bit limp. She represents Ygraine, Arthur's mother. The dark haired one in red is your mother. The necklace was hers to. It's a little wooden flute. She gave me. If I ever needed her, I was supposed to blow it. I want you to have it. She would wat you to have it."

Merlin sighed. "I think I need to retell the story I didn't do a very good job. It's a much more complicated tale," the warlock said. "Sit down, it might take a bit."

"Twenty years I was Arthur's manservant. I was hired after saving him. I had been sent to Camelot from here because I wasn't trusted. I am a warlock, you see, and I was the only one like me in the village," Merlin began.

"A few months after I became his servant, there was a banquet where a peace treaty was signed. At this feast, I was alerted that there was poison in a goblet and so I drank it. I was willing, but also forced," he explained. "Before that though I met your mother – Freya. She had been captured by Halig, a slave trader. I released her and then when Arthur was questioned about my involvement, I lied. I didn't want her sent back. That was tricky because Halig wanted her and if she couldn't be found, he was going to take it out on me. I think he would've whipped me. It didn't happen."

Merlin cleared his throat as he thought about the past events. They were all so clear in his mind. It was as if they had happened yesterday.

"Anyway, the cup was indeed poisoned with a rare toxin. Gaius, my uncle and surrogate father and mentor, had none in his quarters and so, Arthur went to get some. But, when he returned, he discovered I appeared to have improved and got rid of the flower," the warlock continued. "We went on with things until I heard a beam break. I did the only thing I could think of…I blew up the beam with my magic. Afraid and angry, Arthur sent me away."

"I ran and ran until I passed out from my fever. The poison had been at bay in me, but when I used the energy to obliterate the beam, it started working again. Your mother found me and took care of me, until she heard Arthur come," Merlin said, smiling at the thought.

The warlock paused. "Arthur brought me back to Camelot after fishing me out of the lake. I went deeper into the water instead of out when I heard Arthur approach. I was afraid of being killed. I didn't know it was Arthur at the time. Back at Camelot, I died, at least I appeared to have died. My body was placed in a tomb because it was raining and there was no way to have a funeral pyre," he whispered.

"I was taken and given the antidote, but when I attempted to flee, a sorceress took my magic. Every time I used magic, it was sucked out of me until I was a shell. Deep in the caves I discovered Ygraine, who had supposedly died during Arthur's birth," Merlin said. "Somehow, Arthur found Ygraine and myself. After the sorceress who took me was killed, we went back to Camelot," Merlin continued in a low voice.

"Gaius gave me my magic, but the trauma of the whole ordeal left me as a child. I didn't understand anything. It was at that time, Balinor, my father came. He was fiercely loyal to Ygraine and didn't even know of my existence until then. He tried to fix me. It didn't work. However, seeing your mother and her kiss worked. She made me whole again."

Merlin laughed as his smile broadened. "Soon, we married. It was my mother and Father with Gaius officiating and Arthur watching from a distance. I didn't know he was though," Merlin said. "And she was gorgeous. Dressed in light blue, she had flowers woven into her hair. There was never a more lovely bride."

"The next day you were conceived. She had to leave that night because she was cursed. Every night, she turned into a bastet. A woman gave her the curse because Freya killed a man in self-defense. However, after she became pregnant with you, she did not turn," Merlin explained. "We were so happy. It was probably sickening."

He laughed again and shook his head. "Anyway, a month after our wedding Morgause decided to seek revenge of her friend, Nimueh…the woman that poisoned me and took my magic. She released Dorocha on Arthur's birthday, Samhain's Eve and they attacked Camelot. To save Arthur, I jumped in front of one. It was the coldest thing I ever felt. To save Camelot and myself, Arthur and Balinor took me to the Isle of the Blessed. Balinor sacrificed himself so I could live and so that Camelot was safe again."

"Five months later, after a snow, Freya and myself were playing. I told her to be careful, but she slipped and induced labor. There was no way to stop it. And then, that night, she turned and she was killed," Merlin whispered. "You were so small and so sick. You could hardly breathe. Gaius did not think you would live a day, but we treated you and you did live, although there were several close calls when you stopped breathing."

Merlin breathed out slowly. This was hard to talk about. "I didn't tell Arthur for two weeks and when I did, it didn't go well. He exiled you and I even though you were sick and had stopped breathing for ten minutes. Apparently, Ygraine overturned the ruling, but it was too late…I had gone. On the run, bandits came after me. Before they caught up with us, I did the only thing I could think of so you were safe, I hid you under a bush. After I was taken, Arthur found you and the rest is history."

When Merlin began his tale, Arthur excused himself from the room figuring that Ceri would need the time alone with her biological father. He went outside into the darkness of the night while his Goddaughter remained by Merlin's side listening to his story.

Ceri, for her part, kept hold of the flute, gingerly running her thumb over it as she listened. Merlin was right, the story was very long, but it wasn't unbelievable. Even though she wasn't there for most of it, the young girl could almost picture everything that the warlock had said. The story made her see everything in a different light too; probably because it was told from Merlin's point of view.

When the man on the bed fell silent, Ceri at first didn't know what to say. It had seemed to her as if Merlin had poured his heart and soul in to that story, trying to make her see just how much he had loved her and her mother.

"I wish I could have known her; my mother. Father always said I looked like her." Ceri paused for a minute before she asked, "How did she die?"

"I wish you could've known her, as well. She was such a kind and caring woman. Freya was so full of love and life. Most people didn't get to see that or were not willing to see it because of her curse," Merlin whispered. The warlock felt tired on the inside, but he didn't say anything about it. "Even her own people, the druids, sent her away and they are not the sort to do such a thing."

He nodded and smiled. "You look exactly like your mother," Merlin said. "Although a lot of people also saw me in you and thought you looked more like me. You have my ears and nose, but your mother's hair and eyes."

Merlin breathed out as she asked that question. "You're not going to like the answer," he said. "You recall I told you she was cursed and that she turned into a bastet. This creature is a giant winged black cat that kills."

"The night you were born, the curse came back. I think the pregnancy protected her," He began. "But, when it came back…she was more dangerous. She was attacking and killing Camelot villagers. Arthur and his knights had no choice, but to shoot her. Arthur, however, gave the fatal blow. Soon after, she died at the lake and in my arms."

Even though Ceri hadn't actually been there when the attack happened she was able to picture it in her mind _exactly_ how it had happened. She saw her father approach the beast; saw the fatal blow delivered, but in Ceri's eye instead of the beast she saw her mother, so in essence she saw the man she considered to be her father fatally wound her mother.

She began to tear up; Ceri couldn't help it. She felt hurt and betrayed and most of all she felt angry; angry at Arthur for doing that. Not only had he murdered her mother, but in a sense he had tried to murder her and Merlin, as well. If he hadn't of banished them and if he hadn't of killed Freya how different would their lives have been?

Angrily, Ceri turned and left the bedroom. She saw that Arthur wasn't in the main living room so she went outside, finding him sitting on the ground near the door. Tears were pouring down her cheeks as she loudly lay in to Arthur; cursing him and his family for their treatment not only of her and Merlin but of Freya and the Druids as well.

The blond haired man didn't do or say anything to stop Ceri's ranting and cursing. He knew he deserved it and more but when Ceri actually said she wished it would have been him that died instead of her mother, it cut straight in to his heart. He regretted that night every single day. If he had known who the beast was, then he wouldn't have hurt it so badly, but he hadn't known and now there was no way to turn back time.

"I hate you...!"

Arthur blinked, feeling himself actually tearing up a little at Ceri's words. She had a right to say that, she had the right to feel that way, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt any less to hear those words coming from her lips. "Ceri...I-I'm sorry...! If there was any way..."

"Save it, _Arthur_...!"Ceri shot back using his first name instead of 'father' or 'papa,' "I never want to see you again...I hate you! You ruined my life; my family's life and all you can say is you are sorry?! I wish mother would have killed you, maybe then we'd all still be together."

Arthur didn't say anything to that. How could he?! Instead he just stood there as Ceri physically slapped his cheek and then ran off in to the darkness of the night. Because the front door was still open, it was almost a sure thing that even from the bedroom Merlin would have heard everything Ceri had said.


	7. Confessions of Children

The warlock didn't know what to do. He had a feeling that Ceri was angry, especially when she charged out. He wanted to explain to her that he wasn't mad at Arthur. He wanted to let her know that he didn't blame him. He wanted to let her know that the event was ultimately inevitable and that Freya had lived on borrowed time. But, she left before any of that could be said.

Merlin winced at the words Ceri yelled at her godfather. He closed his eyes and shook his head. He hadn't wanted her to be that angry. He had just wanted her to know the truth and understand her past. She deserved to know. Would he have said anything different if he had a chance to redo the conversation? No. Merlin knew he would have said the same thing if given a second chance.

When the air had quieted and there was no more yelling, Merlin thought he ought to go check on Arthur. Shaking, Merlin pushed himself up. He fell back, but he didn't give up. He tried again. This time, he stayed standing. On very unsteady legs, he shuffled from the room and outside. It took three times as long as it should've, but at least he made it. His heart was pounding and he was sweating from the exertion.

Stepping outside, he sank down onto the bench by the cottage. He couldn't go any farther. "She didn't mean those things. Right now, she's upset and hurt and angry. But she'll calm down," Merlin whispered. "It'll be all right, Arthur."

When Ceri had run off in to the darkness Arthur had just watched her leave. He had wanted to go after her, but the fact of the matter was _someone_ had to stay at the hut for Merlin's sake and if that person wasn't going to be Ceri, then it had to be Arthur. The tears that had been dotting the edge of his sight when she had slapped him finally fell freely from his blue eyes.

In his heart he had known that this day was inevitable. He couldn't have kept the entire truth from Ceri forever, no matter how much he may have wanted to. Arms wrapping around himself the former Prince of Camelot turned towards Merlin who was seated on the small two seat wooden bench that was just beside the hut.

He had heard the warlock come outside and he had heard the whispered words, but only now was he choosing to respond to them. Pain filled blue eyes studied the raven haired man intently. "You shouldn't be out here Merlin," Arthur began through sharp intakes of air. "You need all of the rest you can get if you want to heal."

Arthur chose to ignore Merlin's comments about Ceri and how she hadn't meant what she had said. He knew that; knew she was just upset, but even knowing all of that didn't mean that his heart hadn't been crushed by her words. Of course Arthur knew he deserved everything she had said to him. She had been right; he had screwed up in more ways than one.

He had in essence destroyed a family; killing the mother, banishing a child who had done no wrong and who had been struggling for her next breath, and banishing the father who had done little more than try to protect his family the only way he knew how. Arthur felt like a monster especially because he knew there was no way he could fix the damage he had done to the people he had once considered his closest friends.

At the comment about resting, Merlin shrugged. "Should I really," he asked. "Or does it matter? Arthur, I am dying. I know it. I heard Alice and you talk, although I figured it out before then."

He sighed as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "I haven't eaten in twenty years, so I can barely tolerate a spoonful of broth. I had wounds that were not tended and while they are healed, who knows what happened during that process. It was magic kept me alive all of those years. Magic and worry about my daughter," Merlin explained. "Can anyone live through that? Do you know of anyone?"

"And, you know, I can die with peace in my mind and in my heart," the warlock concluded. "I now know she is alive, that she didn't get taken, and that she now knows her history fully. I wanted her to know the truth. She deserved it."

He leaned back and rested his head against the wall. "But, why did you keep her when it made you go from living a Prince's life to that of a peasant? Why didn't you send her somewhere, like a monastery?" Merlin asked.

The warlock glanced at Arthur and saw the grief in his eyes. "Do _you_ feel I made the right choice as a godfather? How did you even know? I guess Gaius told you," he mused. "And, if you could do it over again, would you accept the responsibility? I know what my answer would be. I want to know yours. Do you have any regrets of raising her?"

Arthur didn't answer at first because he physically couldn't answer. To hear Merlin talk it sounded to the older man as if the warlock had given up and didn't even _want_ to live anymore, and that just crushed his heart. He had just gotten the younger man back and now it sounded as if no matter what he did he was destined to lose him again. Losing him the first time had almost destroyed the former Prince of Camelot. Losing him a second time? Arthur couldn't even think about the hurt and pain that would be present.

The blonde felt tears well up in his eyes at the knowledge that there really was very little hope that Merlin would live, but still he refused to let the tears fall because he didn't want the warlock to see them.

The warlock looked over at Arthur. He could see the tears that wanted to fall. He noticed the man's chin crumple as he lips turned downwards in a vain attempt not to cry.

"Arthur, please, don't cry. Do not weep for me or my pending death. I will not weep," whispered the man in a serene voice. "It will be all right. You will be all right. Don't forget that. It will. I am not afraid. And, I am at peace it will undeniably happen. Isn't that the most important thing? Peace of heart and of mind?"

"Ceri, she shouldn't have been born so soon, but she was It was so scary," he said. "But, I would've done anything for her and did those couple weeks."

They had been talking back at forth for a little while; Arthur answering Merlin's questions and Merlin answering his to some degree, but after he mentioned what he did about Ceri and how he just couldn't let her be sent away he heard Merlin say, "You couldn't or wouldn't? I would not have been angry. I would've understood. I could hardly take care of her and I had Gaius and my mother helping me," the warlock admitted.

"Couldn't, Merlin. You told me you wanted me to be Ceri's godfather, or at least you had wanted to ask me. When you were taken...Gaius reiterated that fact. Why did I keep her if it meant losing my birthright? Because I owed it to you and Ceri but most of all I owed it to her mother. Ceri had no one and she would have been left to die. No child deserves that."

The warlock nodded a second time. He had figured as much. That had been the answer he was expecting."Yes, I did. I did want you to be her godfather. I couldn't imagine anyone else in that role," Merlin replied. "I didn't know she would come early or that she would be so sickly or that you would actually have to take care of her for very long. I thought I would see her grow up. I thought I'd help her with her first steps and words. There was so much…but it doesn't matter now. Although, I didn't think the position would cost you everything. I didn't want it to."

"No, a child doesn't deserve being left for the wolves," he continued, "I guess it's why the monasteries take unwanted or orphaned children. They have a home at least. I don't follow their beliefs, but I like that they do that."

"Freya understood. She harbored no ill-wishes or hatred towards you and what you did. She understood. She knew she could be killed at any time. Freya knew she was dangerous," he told Arthur. "She would've understood you sending her away. She would've been grateful you took care of Ceri and raised her as her own."

Merlin was trying to let him off the hook; Arthur understood that, but he felt as if Merlin should at least be angry with him; he deserved it! He killed Freya; he left a husband without a wife and a child without a mother! Not only that but he ripped that father and daughter away from the help and support they both sorely needed and it was because of that heinous act that the father was then ripped away from the daughter.

"Oh, Arthur, Ceri would've ultimately ended of motherless. Freya lived on borrowed time. Even though she didn't want to, she killed people and things. You very well might've still killed her or someone else would've," Merlin said. "If I had to do it over again, I don't think I would've told you of my marriage. Freya was so scared and she was a fugitive in the courts eyes. It was my only way to protect her."

"You forget Merlin; already knew. Before you told me I knew the two of you had gotten married. I had seen you and her; saw the ceremony." Arthur mumbled, looking away in to the darkness.

Merlin shook his head. It was a slow, deliberate movement. "No, I haven't forgotten you knew about the wedding months before I told you," said the warlock. "But, you must be forgetting that I didn't know you knew. I thought I had hidden our marriage well and had planned to keep it hidden, only because Freya asked me to do that. I wouldn't tell anyone until she was ready. If she had ever been ready. We could've been hiding our secrets for years if things had happened differently."

Merlin's brow furrowed as he swallowed so hard his Adams apple showed. His thin fingers curled inwards and dug in until they bit through the skin, making blood drip from his palms. Merlin's head went back and leaned against the house. Closing his eyes, a moan, low and wild, ripped from his throat and came out of his lips.

He had done too much. Every muscle was complaining from the movement. He had even eaten too much. His stomach was spasaming, churning, and cramping. Limply, Merlin leaned over and threw up. When he was done, he stayed leaning forward. His body shook. His chest heaved. And sweat trickled down his face, chest, and back.

"Here let me help you."

Merlin wanted to fight the help. He wanted to tell Arthur no and that he could handle this himself. He had thrown up before, after all. There wasn't a lot to help him with. But didn't. He couldn't. He had naught the strength. He just shrugged.

It was Arthur. When Merlin had started to throw up, reflexively Arthur had gone back inside, grabbed a cloth and then poured some cool water in to a cup before returning to the warlock's side. Now he knelt down in front of the younger man, soaking a bit of the cloth in the water before wiping the bits left over off of Merlin's face.

Merlin watched the exiled Prince with embarrassment. "Sorry," he muttered as his brow furrowed with more pain. "I think whatever Alice gave me has worn off. Everything hurts."

"Swirl some water around in your mouth, it'll help get rid of the flecks that'll be caked in there as well as the taste, but don't swallow it, just spit it back out." Arthur said, placing the cup in to Merlin's hand. He helped guide the cup to the dark haired man's lips so he could sip on it.

Merlin nodded. He was glad for the water to rice his mouth out. The bile left a burning sensation in his throat. Merlin sipped the liquid, swished, and spat it out. "Better. Can we go in?"

Arthur sighed and then nodded. He hated seeing Merlin like this. It tore him up. Wrapping an arm around Merlin's waist and shoulders, the exiled Prince led Merlin inside and laid him in his bed.

On top a silvery white steed, a man perched. Crowned with dark curls, he wore no head gear, but he was dressed in the armor of Camelot. Laden with hunks of fresh meat from a good day of hunting, the beast he was on moved slower, thus when he heard something (a wheeze) he could easily stop.

"What was that, Mordred," asked a curly and blonde haired knight.

"I don't know, Leon. I'll go see," Mordred said with a bit of disdain in his voice. He dismounted and followed the wheezing.

Seeing a small girl, who was older then she looked, struggling to breathe, he knelt beside her. Gently, Mordred placed a hand on her shoulder and rolled her over. "Miss, can you hear miss. Can you breathe," he asked. Unclamping his cloak, he wrapped it around her. "Who are you?"

Brushing a strand of hair away, he saw into her mind. His widen as he stared at her. _"You are the child of Emrys. I thought he was dead, but you have shown me differently. Your secret's safe with me,"_ Mordred thought to Ceri.

Ceri glared at the man. She didn't respond to his words. The girl did not like the fact he could see into her mind.


	8. The Way Undone

They reached Camelot just as the sun was peaking over the castle walls. The early morning sunlight made the white stone glow red. Usually, Mordred was fascinated by this. Not today though. Today he was worried about the ill girl with him.

She was direly thin and very short. Her body was quivering from cold or fear, he wasn't sure. And she wheezed and coughed constantly, even in a semi-asleep state. Mordred didn't like that at all. Had she been ill for long? He hoped that the physicians at Camelot could help her, especially if she indeed was Emrys's child.

Coming through the gates, he slowed. There, in front of him was Morgana. She was striding down the steps. "My lady, I-I found someone in the woods, a girl. She seems ill," he said, stopping in front of the Queen.

Morgana, who was dressed in a lovely silver dress studded with jewels that made it shine, studied the girl in Mordred's arms. She was short, frail, and obviously very sick.

The Queen's first reaction was to send the sickly girl away, but she forced herself not to give the order. The people of Camelot had threatened more than once to rise up in an uproar because of the way she was running things. Normally she wouldn't care, but she had to start winning the respect of the people.

"Very well, take her to the Court Physician," Morgana said in an icy tone. The Court Physician was no longer Gaius, but another sorcerer who had a background in medicine and who was Morgana's most trusted advisor. If there was something that she needed to know about the girl then she was sure she could count on her friend to tell her.

Mordred nodded. Right before he went to the doctor, he watched as Leon turned and left. That was only slightly odd – he was probably going to tend to the horses after all. Shaking it off, he carried her to the physician's quarters and laid her on the bed. He didn't exactly like this new physician. He didn't trust him, but Mordred did not let his apprehensions known.

"What do you know about her?" asked the man in a gruff voice as he gathered supplies, hopefully to ease her breathing.

"Nothing. I found her in the woods alone," he explained.

"I see. What does the Queen want me to do with her?" the other man asked.

Mordred shrugged. "I don't know. Heal her up, I suppose. She did have me bring her here," he replied. "Is that all?" Getting a nod, Mordred scurried from the room and to the throne room. The physician scared him; the gruff nature, the angry looking eyes, the fact that he seemed to want to bite the lad's head off at any moment…it was why he kept away from the man as much as he possibly could.

Mordred entered the throne and strode up to the golden throne Morgana was seated on. He bowed to the Queen. "My lady, you shall be feasting tonight," he said. Pride was in his eyes. "We downed a mighty buck while hunting. Oh and things are quite peaceful in the surrounding wilderness. We saw naught a soul, except the girl. That surely is a good thing, what with those meetings Leon came upon."

Morgana smiled. She liked Mordred; she trusted him. "That is wonderful news, Mordred." She said. She had heard reports of a possible army mounting to supplant her, but she was glad to find those rumors false.

"I thought it would please you, Morgana," Mordred replied as he returned the smile with a small one of his own.

As he stood there, the young knight's mind was still on Leon and him slipping off. Was he going to Lancelot and Arthur? Was it time to act? Mordred had not seen Tristan, but that didn't mean much. The man never failed to arrive right when they needed him.

"I believe it is wise you let the girl stay. I doubt she would have lasted much longer out there on her own. What do you want me to do with her?" he asked in a quiet voice. His expression was impassive to his thoughts. "What are you going to do with her?"

####

Leon rode away from Camelot as fast as his brown stallion would carry him. He had slipped away easily. Perhaps Mordred had noticed - perhaps not. It did not really matter whether he did or not, because the young knight would not tell Morgana of his plans. Mordred would know who he was going to see and why he would be going to visit him. The time for action was nigh. With the newcomer, there was a chance of succeeding. Leon hoped that the girl would distract Morgana enough to get Arthur, Elyan, Gwaine, Lancelot, Percival, and Tristan into the castle without too much disturbance or questioning. It was tricky deal and if they were not careful, the group would fail. Leon hoped that the knights within Camelot were also ready to overthrow the Queen because it was now or never. The curly haired knight just hoped Tristan would be arriving in Ealdor in the next day or two - that was all the bigger their window of opportunity was Leon feared.

The Knight of Camelot reached Lancelot's house early in the morning. The sun, ready to encompass the cottages and farm lands, was just peaking its pale face over the hilly countryside. Siding off of his brown stallion, he lightly tied the reins of the beast to the fence pole before striding to the door. Raising a gloved hand, he knocked.

Soon, the face of a sleepy looking Lancelot peaked out from a crack between the door and the door frame. He frowned blearily at Leon as he registered who was at him home. As realization dawned in his eyes, his brows shot upwards. Exiting the cottage, he came out onto the small, wooden porch. "Good marrow, Leon. I am surprised to see you here so early this morning," greeted the ex-knight and now miller. "What brings you here?"

"It is time to attack, Lancelot," said the curly haired knight.

This statement made the other knight frown. "Now, why is that? Tristan is not here and I believe that Gwaine has just arrived from another romp through the wilderness," asked Lancelot with a cock of his head. "We have no supplies - no capes and no swords. We have nothing. How could we even think of attacking Camelot now?"

"Well, we better get it and get it fast! Tristan's supposed to arrive here any day, anyway," Leon replied. He was feeling a little desperate.

"How could we even think of attacking Camelot now?" Lancelot asked a second time. Leon had not answered that question.

"Morgana is indisposed right now. She is distracted at the moment and I do not think that will last for long. Camelot has a guest. She is quite the mystery. We do not even know her name. All we know is she is ill. Mordred found her on the way back to the castle," Leon explained.

"Let's alert Percival and Elyan. Then, we will go and see Arthur. I need to go and check on Merlin anyway," said Lancelot as he went in and grabbed a jacket. It was a bit cool that morning.

When Lancelot came back out of the house, Leon asked, "Merlin? Merlin's alive? He has been gone for twenty years now, has he not?"

Lancelot nodded as sadness flickered in his eyes. "He is alive, but barely. I found him in a cave. A woman had kept him there under some sort of curse," replied the miller as they walked towards the black smith's shop where Elyan and Percival worked.

"How is he," Leon whispered.

"Not well," was the ex-knights weary reply.

A furious looking Gwaine stepped from the pub near the black smiths shop. His eyes were alight with fire and his jaw was clenched tightly. Lancelot and Leon had never seen the knight look quite so ferocious. "I will kill 'em," growled the vagabond.

"We do not even know who took Merlin and held him captive for all that time," Lancelot pointed out.

"Surely it was Morgana! Who else hates Merlin and Arthur as much as she?" snapped Gwaine, who was slightly drunk.

"We do not know for certain that she took him. Besides, I saw the woman who took him. At least, I saw the back of her head. She was blond haired and not a brunette," Lancelot said. "Now, Gwaine, this is not a time to seek revenge for Merlin's captivity. We have duties to attend to. It is time to attack Camelot and return the true heir to the throne - Arthur."

Gwaine's jaw was still clenched tightly, but the angry light in his eyes had dimmed a little. There was now determination flickering in his dark eyes. "All right," breathed the man as he flipped a bit of hair from his eyes.

"Gwaine, you go to Arthur's place. We will all meet you there. You know where it is, right," asked Leon.

"Of course I know where the princess's place is. I have seen him come out of it once or twice in the last twenty years," Gwaine said, which made the other two ex-knights roll their eyes and sigh. Turning on his heel, he marched determinedly towards the outer skirts of the village.

Lancelot shook his head and chuckled. Then, raising a fist, he knocked on the door. "Elyan! Percival! It is time," shouted the man.

Those words were all that was needed to make the two men sit their tools down. They had not started forging, thankfully. They had been sweeping the floors and putting tools away and stoking the fire and getting things ready for their work.

Together, the four men strode to Arthur's house. Gwaine was already there, pacing the porch and anxious to get this military campaign ready. "We can't go in yet," the rouge man said when Lancelot was about to knock on Arthur's door (just as he had at the blacksmith's shop).

"Why," Lancelot asked with a frown.

"Oh, you will see. You need not worry," said Gwaine as he stopped pacing and stared out at the sleepy village. "Just give it a minute, all right?"

Lancelot, Leon, Elyan and Percival were confused. What was this guy playing at? What was Gwaine waiting for?

Sure enough, the four men saw what Gwaine was waiting for. It was a barrel topped wagon with a familiar scraggy-faced blonde man. It was Tristan. Coming to a stop in front of the cottage and the group, he hopped down. "I am pleased to see you are all here," he said as a greeting.

"I take it you got the supplies," Leon asked.

The man nodded. "Indeed, I have. There are a hundred capes emblazoned with Camelot's dragon and 100 swords," said Tristan as he grabbed a sword and cloak from the back of his wagon. "Why are there only five of you? Where are the others?"

"They will come. I just have to give the signal," replied Lancelot with a nod of his head. This seemed to relieve Tristan because he sighed blissfully. "I thought it would be best to talk to Arthur before we called for all of the men. How did you know it was time, Tristan?"

"It was just a feeling I had," replied the man with a smirk. The response was a bit cryptic, Tristan knew, but it was a good of a response as any. "Why did you think it was time?"

"Morgana has company," Leon told Tristan. "I am hoping that she will keep Morgana occupied. The girl's a mystery and Morgana was always one for puzzles. She's going to expend her energy figuring out who this young one is and why she was there alone. I hope the girl's presence will be enough to occupy Morgana's mind. If the Queen is distracted we will have a better chance at overthrowing her regime."

"I see," was the response from the scraggy-faced smuggler. "Well, now that we are here, what are we waiting for? Let's get this party started!"

"You have been around Gwaine to much, Tristan," said the ex-knight with his own smirk. Going to the door, he raised his gloved hand and knocked lightly, but firmly on the wooden entrance. "Arthur! Arthur, are you up? I need to talk to you."

There was a scuffle of sound from inside, but it was not footsteps towards the door. It sounded as if the inhabitants within the home were searching for something or someone. "We will find her," Lancelot heard through a crack in the door. It sounded like Merlin and his voice was tinged with worry. "She could not have gone far, could she?"

Lancelot's face contorted as he felt his own worry. "We have a problem," hissed the man.

"What is it," Elyan asked.

Lancelot shook his head. "It is not for me to say," replied the miller as he knocked on the door. This time, the knock was louder and firmer.

"Arthur, open up, please! It is Lancelot. We need to talk to you," Lancelot shouted at the entrance. The ex-knight backed up and waited for a response. He placed his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels as he looked at the group that was congregated on Arthur's porch. To himself, he whispered, 'Please open up. Please. We don't have all day.'

There were a few moments of silence before the door to the hut was opened and the former Prince of Camelot poked his head out. He looked tired; eyes red, puffy and bloodshot from lack of sleep. Stubble was growing on his face, a clear indication that he hadn't shaved in at least a day or two which normally wasn't like him at all.

"Lancelot," Arthur began, finally opening the door wider so he could step out on to the porch, "Now is really not the best time. Ceri is missing. We can't find her."

The young lady who had run off in the night had never returned. It was unlike her. Even when she was mad, she knew better than to not come home. Home was where she could receive her breathing treatments, which she needed on a daily basis. What annoyed Arthur about the entire situation was Merlin. He didn't seem all that worried about his own daughter. He had always been positive that she would return and when she didn't the warlock had still stayed positive. He took in all of the people standing on his porch with a glance; all of them he recognized - Lancelot, Elyan, Leon, Percival and Tristan.

"Arthur," Merlin's voice sounded from inside, "We'll find Ceri, but right now it looks like there is something more important that needs to be discussed."

The former Prince of Camelot looked at Merlin with a somewhat icy glare. What could be more important than the welfare of his daughter?! Merlin for his part seemed to ignore the look as he beckoned those out on the porch to come inside the hut so they all could talk more openly. The warlock was still weak, that was plain to see, but he was trying to be more active even if it looked like a strong wind could blow him over.

"Merlin is right," Lancelot said as he watched Gwaine bear hug Merlin, who had been helped into the kitchen just twenty minutes prior. "We have a lot to discuss. Tristan, come forward."

Tristan stepped forward and handed the red and gold cloak to Arthur. "For twenty years we have been under control of Morgana as Queen. Twenty years is far too long to suffer high taxes and tithes. Twenty years is too long to live in fear. Men and women are worked as slaves. Magical people are beheaded and burned for reasons that are unclear even to the knights of Camelot. It is too much to bear. Things are grim and we want a change."

"Even the knights within the castle are prepared to fight against Morgana. In fact, we have slowly been organizing. We are ready to strike," Leon added. "Tristan and Gwaine have been recruiting people from Ealdor and outside villages. They have found about 90, not counting the men in here. Tristan has been gathering cloaks and swords of Camelot so we can blend in. While they have been doing that, I have prepared over 100 knights within the castle. It is the only reason I agreed to stay in Camelot."

Leon grew quiet for a moment. "And we are ready, but we need you. We want you to lead us," he explained. "There is a reason I want to act now. Morgana has a guest who is quite the puzzle. Mordred found her last night. We know nothing of her except she has breathing trouble. Morgana is not going to rest until she figured out who this child is. This girl is a good distraction."

Merlin tried to get up. He wanted to greet the men properly. A worried Gwaine strode forward and tried to keep him sitting. Irritated, Merlin attempted to push Gwaine away, but had no strength. Thankfully, he ex-knight understood and backed off. "What did she look like," he asked.

"Curly, dark hair...pale face...small of stature. Why," asked Leon.

"That sounds like Ceri," whispered Merlin as he looked over at Arthur. "I told you we had more important things. We have to fight this fight. Then, we can get your daughter back and I'm going to help you."

Lancelot's eyes widen as he shook his head. "You can't, Merlin. You've no strength. Need I remind you where you've been for the last twenty years?" he asked.

The warlock shook his head. "I can do it. I will," Merlin replied. He gave the group a look that said, 'don't even try to argue. I know what I'm doing.'


End file.
